And Just Like That Everything Changed
by wordsonpages
Summary: What if it was Jughead who was shot in the final scene of season one and not Fred? How do you cope when the love of your life is fighting for theirs? What do you do when a civil war is breaking out in your town? How do you go on when tragedy seems to follow you around?- Bughead
1. Chapter 1

**Hey loves!**

 **Its been a while! Sorry I haven't updated life is just crazy right now! I also have a few other stories in the works and will try and post another chapter for Collateral soon!**

 **I just joined tumblr as well and will be posting some fics there and other Bughead stuff as well as some of my original writing [not fanfics] so if you want to check that out its wordsonpages1.**

 **Anyway enjoy this angsty oneshot! xx**

* * *

Jughead swung the door to Pop's open, stepping aside for Betty to enter first. The familiar chime as they crossed the threshold enveloped them both in a sense of comfort and reassurance. Not everything changed. This was still Pop's and they were still them, walking into the neon lit diner as they had countless times before; as children, as friends, as a couple.

It was early and the sun had barely begun to encroach on the town as they made their way to the Chocklit Shoppe. The bright lights, were harsh as always yet encased the place in a warmth unrivalled by any other entity in town. The red leather of the booths shiny and worn, holding thousands of stories and memories.

It was empty bar them, a certain serenity settling with that knowledge.

It had been a long night. After they had been so abruptly interrupted by the Serpent's and Jughead had accepted the jacket- a token of loyalty and a promise of the changes to come- they had spent hours talking, their voices and whispered affirmations of love and will trailing into the early hours of the morning. Betty had aired all her concerns and made him understand she would accept it but it didn't mean she had to like everything that came with the emblem that would now adorn his back. And Jughead had helped her to see that things had already changed and it was about survival now, these people had accepted him and had his back without even knowing him and he needed people in his corner. He made her see that whether they liked it or not he was going to lead a life on the Southside – a fact undisputable- and that he loved her and this could not change that.

Afterwards they had fallen asleep curled up together, their love casting a soft glow across the trailer, warding off the demons that lay beyond just for a little while.

"Good morning kids!" Pop's typical amicable tone greeted. He was behind the counter, finishing putting straws in holders and starting a pot of coffee.

"Morning Pop," Betty returned warmly, a polite smile gracing her face, while Jughead nodded striding over to his usual booth. Betty followed behind him, her fingers laced through his.

"The usual?" the older man called to them from his spot at the counter, a fond smile on his lips as he watched the young couple.

"What else?" Jughead threw back a good natured grin on his face.

He slid to the far side of the booth, and his Hitchcock blonde nestled herself into his side, one leg- clad in his old sweat pants- coming up to rest on the leather while the other rested over his own dark denim covered limb. Her hair was hanging freely by her shoulders and one of his flannels was swallowing her torso. Her face was angled toward his and his breath caught at the sight of her.

She was beautiful always, but in this moment, shrouded by early morning light, free of the shackles of expectation and perfection, dwarfed by his clothing and radiating warmth, she was absolutely stunning. Jughead wasn't stupid. He knew they had a long road ahead of them, that not all of their concerns and fears could be negated in one night. But for now they were okay and she was _here_ and she _loved_ him. It simultaneously made him feel _alive_ and terrified. He had never been good with love, or rather it had never been good to him. But somehow this pastel clad, blonde, smart, determined girl had crept her way into his soul, making home their and prying his trust out of his firm grip to carry in her own. She had unlocked his heart and carved her name deep into the tissue.

"What?" Betty asked, her eyes shining with affection and he realised he had been staring at her. Jughead shook his head, too far gone to feel embarrassed and rather revelling in the effect she had on him.

"Nothing," the raven haired boy said quietly in the minute space between them, eyes alight with mirth and contentment as her face twisted into an expression of mock exasperation.

"Juggie," she whined and he chuckled conceding to tell her.

"You're beautiful Elizabeth Cooper," he stated simply, voice low and honest and Betty felt her heart stutter and her pulse jump at the sincerity she found in his piercing blue eyes. Betty smiled at him, soft and genuine before bringing a hand to his cheek and pecking his lips.

Their eyes remained close for a second as they pulled away, basking in the sensation of each other. "I'll be right back," she whispered, sliding back across the crimson seat and moving toward the ladies room. Jughead sighed as his eyes followed her retreating figure.

He's not sure if he's ever felt more at ease in his entire life as he did right now. Although he wasn't partial to the phrase he couldn't really label this moment anything but perfect. Here in this nostalgic diner that had watched them grow up, offered him sanctity and protection in some of his darkest times, been the facilitator for some of his best memories, he felt at peace. Here in this diner, where he felt at peace with the one person who he felt he truly belonged with, who made him feel like he belonged. Here in this diner, with this girl and no one and nothing else he revelled. He breathed in the lax atmosphere and his lungs thrived in the feeling of fresh, untainted air. The moment was innocent and light and everything he never dreamed he could have.

And then it all changed.

The familiar chime rang out echoing off the walls. And despite the sound being one he had heard billions of times in his life, Jughead felt a shiver run down his spine. Something was off. This was different. Jughead's eyes morphed into a harder shade of blue-steel- as he raised them toward the door. His body froze. Ice crept into his veins and his heart stopped.

Heavy steps echoed off the shining floor, as a disguised, dark figure made his way toward the counter. He had a balaclava over his face but that wasn't the cause of the terror trickling through his veins, freezing his blood and inhibiting his breath. In his left hand the man carried a gun.

Alarm bells were ringing in his head, blaring at him- _move. Run. Do something._ But he wasn't in his body anymore. It was like he watching the events unfold from somewhere high above, an outsider peering in, but not really there.

"Where is he?" the man growled as his slow, demanding steps corrupted the innocence of the new day.

He stopped just before the counter, menacing and trepidation embodied in one burly figure and rough voice. Jughead's eyes drifted to Pop who stood shaking, on the other side of the counter, face contorting in fear. He dared not breathe.

A beat.

Another.

His lungs burned.

"I said where is he?!" The man yelled, aggression filling his voice and bouncing off the walls of the shoppe reverberating in Jughead's ears and making his soul quake. His eyes drifted to the gun which was being raised in the direction of the old man, the click of it being cocked, drawing a sharp inhale from him.

"I please… I don't… who?.. I" Pop babbled incoherently, cheeks glistening with tears as he shook and cowered.

"Fred Andrews. Where. Is. He?" the man repeated threat laced within every syllable as the gun tipped up.

Suddenly Jughead found himself sliding cautiously to the edge of the booth. He was careful to be silent and still. The mention of Fred had kicked his body back to gear and he found himself coming back into reality, terrifying, life threatening reality.

 _Who would want to shoot Fred?_ His brain hummed, while his heart thudded. His movements were calculated as he raised himself up, standing now. The silence in the air was louder than anything he had ever heard and the thrum of blood pounding in his ears created white noise.

"Juggie?"

His eyes snapped to the source of the soft voice that had broken the deafening silence enveloping the diner, tension thick and suffocating. Betty's emotive green eyes filled with fear as she took in the sight before her, limbs freezing to the spot as her body shrunk, further disappearing into his clothes.

The gunman turned, his weapon pointing directly at the love of his life. Jughead's chest constricted unbearably and all air evacuated his lungs. His heart broke as Betty shrunk back further her face going from alarm and fear to full blown panic. His lips were moving before he even registered what he was saying.

"Betty," his voice as hoarse and worn, her gaze locked on his, anxiety ridden eyes pleading with his own. "Betty it's okay, just keep your eyes on me," she swallowed thickly but nodded. The man turning toward him upon the intrusion of Jughead's voice. He felt a sigh of relief leave his lungs as the man's body changed angels once again, the barrel of the gun now staring him down. Betty whimpered in response. Tears pooled in her eyes and he felt the organ in his chest shattering beneath his will to protect her.

"Shutup!" The man yelled , his tone exasperated and impatient. Jughead didn't pay any mind though, his only thought and concern the girl glued to the spot far too many metres away.

"Betts just keep your eyes on me. Everything's gonna be fine." She did what he said, but he could see the tremble in her lips, the stains on her cheeks and the clenched hands by her sides. Hands he longed to grip in his own right now.

Jughead's heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, he felt sick to his stomach and wasn't entirely convinced he wouldn't pass out right there. But somehow he managed to paint a faint smile on his face and keep his gaze locked to hers, ignoring the weapon poised at his chest, despite it taking up all the space in the room.

"I SAID SHUTUP!"

And then it was searing pain.

The room went red and the world fell to black. Jughead stumbled backward, his eyes going wide as his body exacerbated into flames. Somewhere in a far corner of his mind he registered heavy footsteps fleeing. He recollected a flash of black boots against blood stained tiles. But mostly it was just pain-blinding.

Betty's eyes widened as the trigger was pulled, the sound of the shot searing her mind and engraining itself into her haunted memories. She felt the impact hit her square in the chest. Only she wasn't bleeding. She crumbled to her knees, a scream tearing itself from her throat, broken and desperate as Jughead fell back, his eyes too became wide, his face turning pale as his shirt stained red and he fell to the ground. The man fled.

Betty felt tears leak down her face, as distressed sobs and cries ripped their way through her being. She scrambled forward, feeling numb and in excruciating pain all at once.

"Jughead!" She gasped, falling beside his body, her horror stricken eyes darting around the scene. Blood. So much blood. The ground around him was red, his shirt was red, her hands, were red from where they were pressing down on the gaping wound in his abdomen.

"No!" She shook her head furiously as her vision blurred and her eyes stung. Her hands trembled and her blood burned her veins.

"No, no, no, no..NO!" she cried the mantra, over his limp body.

His eyes stared into hers scared and empty. Her sobs wracked her body and her tears stained his face while his blood stained her fingers.

"Juggie please!" her voice sounded like it was underwater and the hysteria in it was unmistakable. The sounds of sirens blaring echoed distantly and she vaguely registered Pop must have called the ambulance.

Jughead's eyes met hers as she brushed his hair away from his forehead which was now damp with sweat.

"Betts-" he wheezed, barely making it through the syllable, his breath escaping him and his face contorting in blinding pain as he spoke.

"Shh," she hushed, salty tears mingling with the words as she stroked his face.

"Just stay with me Jug," she pressed her forehead to his, and willed his being to live. She felt so hopeless and lost and broken and all she could do was watch him die until the paramedics showed up.

"Just keep looking at me," she breathed, unable to get enough air in her lungs. His eyes began to slide shut and cold panic filled her being ten times over.

"No! Jug! JUGGIE!" her red fingers pried his eyes open and he complied, lifting the heavy lids as best he could while she smeared his own blood over his cheeks while she cradled them. His breathes were almost non-existent now and Betty felt the chilling hand of the Grim reaper so close by. She prayed with all her strength as the sobs continued to wrack her frame and her tears were steadily falling on him. She felt incomplete. Like she was being ripped in two or a blade was driving through her chest.

"Don't you dare leave me Forsythe Jones," his lip twitched faintly at the name, but she dare not hope, only praying as she tried not to notice the ghostly white pigment his skin had taken on or the blue shade that now coloured those lips.

"Not now. Not after you made me fall in love with you."


	2. Chapter 2

Blaring alarms rang in her ears, the sound obnoxious and hopeful all at once. Betty felt like she was under water, every sound muffled, every movement sluggish. Time seemed to pass impossibly slow-a stark contrast to the speed in which the bullet had hit him. His breathing was becoming more shallow and ragged by the second, his skin almost translucent. It felt cold under her hand which rested on his face [the other still pressing down on the wound].

His eyes kept threatening to flutter closed and each time she'd urge them open, keeping his gaze and making out the far off look in them behind the watery sheen in her own. Her mouth felt like a dessert but she kept whispering "please" and "stay with me" or "I love you" into the suffocating air between them.

Red and Blue lights illuminated the diner, the paramedics bursting through the door mere moments later. The chime of the bell was lost in their haste.

"Just hang on Jug," she breathed, a slither of relief sliding into her heart.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Jughead wheezed; quiet, broken and wretched. It made her want to throw up but steeling her strength Betty merely stroked his hair away from his chilled, damp forehead.

"Shh," she whispered gently, trying to keep the panic and despair out of her tone.

And then she blinked and the paramedics were there shoving her aside and taking ownership of her boyfriend's body and more so, his life. She couldn't register what was happening, rather she could only think about how much colder her hand found now that is was bereft of his even with his skin so icy. How empty and lost and useless she felt as pain erupted in her chest all over again and spread outward.

They moved his body onto a gurney and all she could think was-

 _So much blood._

It was dark and tainting over pristine white tiles. Betty couldn't tear her eyes away from the pool, spreading and eating away at the floor and her sanity. A tear dripped off her cheek landing in the liquid and sending ripples running outward through the scarlet.

"Your riding with him," one of the paramedics asked voice calm but enshrined with urgency. Betty took a moment to respond, the words seeming to be on delay. When they finally settled on her ears she nodded furiously and climbed up on shaking legs.

"Girlfriend?" the woman asked as she clambered into the ambulance behind the gurney. The shell of the blonde girl nodded, her eyes never leaving Jughead's form.

His eyes were shut now, his shirt cut open as the paramedics accessed the wound. He was hooked up to machines, doing most of his breathing for him.

The blaring sirens started up again and Betty felt the lump in her throat grow.

And then her world came crashing down all over again.

A different jarring sound cut through the air. The sound of breaths through tubes stopped all together. A harsh flat line, alarming, dire and demanding pulsed throughout the vehicle.

"We lost him!"

Betty's heart shattered. The sharp broken pieces seeping into her blood and catching and cutting on her arteries and veins as her severed organ kept trying to push it through her body. She couldn't breathe. Everything was falling, crashing, spiralling, burning. Panic and pain, a lethal combination like nothing she had ever experienced surged through her body, making it seize at the poison. A mangled cry left her throat as the debris of the hell she was now in the midst of crushed her. Her soul left her body, leaving it empty and cold.

The paramedic was by his side doing things Betty couldn't even attempt to comprehend. The sound of machines trying to tell her he was dead rang in her mind like a sick, morbid taunt was on loop as the pain and emptiness battled within her. A voice nothing like her own- weak, broken, devastated, grieving- infiltrating the air. It was begging the woman and God and "ANYONE" to "PLEASE GOD PLEASE BRING HIM BACK".

The obnoxious noise settled and a steady ore subtle beep pierced the air now. Betty stilled paralysed. Her eyes wide and blinking slowly.

"He's back," the woman breathed, relieved offering Betty a small smile. She didn't return it merely slumping back with her own gasp. Air came back into her lungs, and her soul permeated its way back into her core.

"He's a strong one."

Another blink and they were at the hospital. The doors of the ambulance burst open. And then he was gone.

Her body, paralysed till that moment suddenly shot forward. _No!_ They couldn't take him from her now. Her logical mind, hidden in the depths of her frazzled and distressed emotional state knew that they needed to take him. But her soul and heart which were inextricably linked with his seared at the distance and uncertainty.

"Jughead!" she called, her voice rough and panicked.

A nurse was beside her in an instant but her eyes remained desperately on his body which was trailing further and faster from her line of sight.

"They're going to take him to surgery sweetie," the older woman said gently, placing what would be a reassuring hand on her back if Betty was capable of feeling any sensation at all in that moment.

The hand then guided her swiftly, yet delicately toward the building.

"Let's get you settled in the waiting room. I'm sure there are some people you need to call," another warm smile.

Half an hour later Betty found herself sitting in the dull, plastic and linoleum infused waiting room of Riverdale ICU. Her body was rigid, her face stoic. She had been staring blankly at the wall across from her since she sat down. Her hands lay in her lap trembling, while her limbs ached.

Suddenly the white double doors to the waiting room burst open, the sound covering the low murmur of the television hanging on the wall. Her mind was vaguely aware that whoever was rushing through them was probably here for her… for _him._

She couldn't bring herself to move though. Her will to do anything but wait long gone.

Alice Cooper's concerned and weary face appeared before her, bringing her one step back from whatever brink she was on.

"Betty," her mum spoke in a quiet voice, brimming with maternal empathy and true worry for the Jones boy she can developed a fondness for.

Her sore and swollen eyes snapped to her mums, she registered the pressure of manicured hands on her knees.

Her stare was far off.

"How is he?" A low voice murmured from behind her mother and it was only then that Betty registered Archie, Fred. She didn't know which one asked but they were both sporting furrowed brows, tight jaws and pained eyes.

Her voice was raw and vulnerable when she spoke. "He's-" she choked on the word a sob coming up instead-no tears though, she had none left- as her mind flooded with images of blood Ava sounds if heard failing.

Her eyes shut as she took a deep breath, reopening them and shaking her head.

"I don't know."

Archie nodded collapsing in the chair beside her and running his hands over his face aggressively.

Fred mentioned something about finding coffee for them squeezing her shoulder as he walked past.

"I'm so sorry Honey," Alice whispered, brushing some of her daughter's unruly blonde hair behind her ear.

"I'll see what I can Find out," she promised dropping a kiss to her forehead before rising to her feet. And briskly trekking off.

Betty slumped back in her seat, her eyes finding the wall again. Her fingers tugged at the hem of her flannel… _his_ flannel. The darkness encroached on her, smearing her organs, creating a gaping space in her chest and a black hole in her stomach. She had never felt so empty and alone in her life as she did in that moment in the sterile hospital waiting room with her mother down the hall and her neighbour and best friend sat in the chair to her left while the love of her life fought for his.

And that darkness -the one she was learning to recognise, understand and even embrace a little- had never terrified her as much as it was now. Because even though he exuded darkness and mystery he was her shade of light. He wasn't blinding colour, he wasn't the glossy enhanced image of a fantasy. Rather he was the spots of white in their old movie, the loan star in the ebony sky, the lighter shades that made Noir captivating as they contrasted with the dark. He was real and beautiful and enlivening in a subtle, organic, necessary way.

Archie let out a heavy sigh next to her and Betty meekly turned her head toward him. His brown eyes were conflicted and somewhere in the back of her mind she recognised he was wrestling with words; a trait she couldn't help but notice was so antithetical to his best friend, the lump in thrust grew, the darkness spread.

"Are you…" the red head trailed off upon taking in the state of his best friend. She looked vacant, distraught, lost.

He felt so hopeless seeing her like that. It only served to twist the knots he was already feeling in his stomach for his brother further.

"He _died_ Archie." Betty said after a moment, her words stark in the clinical, depressing silence of the room.

His eyes bulged and his mouth fell open as he stared at her, waiting.

"In the ambulance. His heart it… stopped."

Archie fought back a sob as his body went rigid with the image of Jughead's lifeless body infiltrating his mind. He could only grasp at what Betty must have felt like actually seeing it.

"He was dead and I-" her voice was quiet and hollow and it was far more haunting then any cry of wail ever could have been.

"God Betty, I'm so sorry," Archie implored, moving a hand down to search for hers in a grasp of comfort.

Her hand was trembling and sticky. Archie looked down in confusion. He audibly gasped as he took in the sight of her pale skin soaked in blood. The dry crimson coating he fingers and staining her nails.

"Betty…"

The broken girls eyebrows creased in lack of understanding before following his gaze. Her hands were covered, her shirt-his shirt- was too, tainted with his blood, drenched in sin. Her chest ached, and she felt the same burning she had felt in her abdomen when the bullet ripped through his body, hit her again.

"Oh."

And then she broke. The physical proof of what has occurred evoking her anguish all over again. Tears stung her eyes and fell down her cheeks and to the floor while her body wracked with grief and wrought with pain followed suit, collapsing from the chair. Her chest heaved and her throat closed up. She couldn't get air in her lungs and the stale atmosphere was suffocating her. Her fingers tore at the alternate wrists, trying in vain the scrape and scratch the blood from them. The horrific beeping of flat lines echoing in her brain; "We lost him!" On a loop.

Archie fell beside her lost and hurting and totally unsure of what to do. He was in shock and inept and his own heart was breaking for her. Breaking for his brother and his best friend who has been through so much hell and managed to stand strong and were now literally falling around him.

Suddenly Mrs Cooper and his dad were there. The distressed cries of the girl on the floor drawing their attention. Alice was on the ground in an instant picking Betty up and encasing her in her arms as if she were a child. She held her tight attempting to hold together all the broken pieces threatening to fall.

"He died" Betty sobbed into her mother's chest over and over again. Alice just held her tighter whispering soothing words in her ear despite knowing nothing could appease a broken heart and a worried soul of someone young and in love.

Eventually Betty's hysteria settled down and she was left in a heap of tear stains, blood marring and breaths heaving but allowing of oxygen.

"Let's go get you cleaned up," Alice spoke softly in Betty's ear, cautious of her fragility.

"No I can't leave." Her green eyes were panicked and scared.

"He's still in surgery and will be for a while," her mother tried to reason, wiping Betty's cheeks and helping her up to her feet. She still looked apprehensive.

"I'll let you know if anything happens I promise" Fred soothed gently and Betty sighed nodding her head slightly and offering Archie a look of apology before letting her mother guide her toward the bathroom.

Once inside the safety of the ladies room Betty slumped against the counter. She noticed her mother's clothing then sweat pants and an old sweatshirt. It was strange to see Alice Cooper liberated from heels and blouses and Betty felt a painful pang in her chest at the affection her mother had for her boyfriend to rush to the hospital in such a state and a trickle of graciousness for her unwavering devotion to her daughters.

Alice gently removed the shirt and Betty felt the sting of guilt in her chest. She didn't want to be rid of it, she wanted to hold onto him in any way she could but she knew she couldn't walk around with his blood all over her.

Her mother grabbed a wad of paper towel and quickly sponged her down after rinsing it, then reached into an overnight bag Betty has just noticed at their feet and replaced the flannel with another one. It was Jughead's. Betty immediately recognised the barely there scent of cigarettes, deodorant and something uniquely him.

Her eyes met her mother's as Alice buttoned her up; grateful and slightly questioning.

"I know it's your favourite," Alice stated simply, her tone kind and put together in a way only a mother could do to hold strength for their child.

"I can't lose him mum."

"I know."

Betty appreciated that her mum didn't lie to her, especially after everything. But she still felt her heart sunk again into the depths of her hurt. She was exhausted and on edge and so hopeless.

"He's strong Betty. We just have to pray and trust."

Betty nodded, biting her lip and grasping her mother's hands where they held hers in the sink, scrubbing.

After being satisfied she was cleared of the tainting crimson, Alice tied her hair back in a loose pony tail and then linked their fingers together again.

Betty took a step forward her legs a little more steady now.

They made their way back to the waiting room, finding a small crowd had gathered in their absence.

Archie was in the same seat, Veronica now occupying the one Betty had been in. Her dad and Polly were there too, while Kevin leaned by the window.

Betty startled at the image part of her warming at the proof before her that people did care about him. That he did belong. Something she had always known but none the less was glad of the confirmation.

Her dad moved to her side Squeezing her hand and dropping a kiss to her head. She offered a defeated smile and shuffled to reclaim a seat amongst the group, closest the the doors that his the wards.

Veronica leaned across the pat her knee while Polly came to sit by her side. Everyone seemed to understand this was no time for words, they just simply needed to be there.

They spent hours like that. The morning trickling into afternoon. They took turns getting coffee, going for walks, sourcing food and checking for updates. Betty stayed put not daring to stray father than the window. She was pacing there now.

"Forsythe Jones?" A voice rang through the air of the waiting room now filled with quiet chatter and restless fidgeting.

Betty was immediately in front of the doctor. Breathe baited and heart poised ready to fall apart all over again.

"Is he okay?" She whispered.

"The bullet was lodged in his rips, punctured his lung which collapsed and there was a lot of internal bleeding. We lost him. But he's a fighter. He's got a long way to go and the next 24 hours are critical but we are confident will make afull recovery."

Betty felt the weight lift off her shoulders as her brain processed the doctor's words. He was alive.

She breathed out finally feeling like her lungs were functioning again and her heart was able to beat once more. She still felt extremely off kilter, but knowing he was safe saw some of her soul ebb away at the darkness and the burn in her heart subside.

"Can I see him?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I see him?" Betty asked the doctor. Her tone was hopeful, exhausted and desperate all at once.

The doctor hesitated.

"Immediate family only at the moment."

Her heart dropped and her nails dug into the skin of her palms. She blanched, her lips quivering as the too white walls of the waiting room closed in on her. Her breath was starting to leave her again and the anxiety filled knots in her stomach only coiled tighter as the cracks in her heart that had just closed up a little gaped wide open again.

"We understand you have regulations Doc, but ah, Jughead's family aren't here." Fred mediated. Betty eyes flitted either side of her suddenly realising she wasn't alone before the surgeon. Archie and Fred were on one side of her while her mother stood on the other.

The doctor hesitated again before them, eyes straining and mouth set.

Her brain kicked into gear and Betty squared her shoulders preparing for a fight. If nothing else Betty Cooper fought for the people she loved and she would undoubtedly fight for Jughead Jones forever. Because that's what people like them, who had gone through what they'd gone through did.

"Look I don't want to be rude but I watched my boyfriend get shot in front of my eyes, bleed out in front of me and die in an ambulance. I'm not taking no for an answer." Her voice was hard, the darkness giving it a cutting edge that almost scared her. Any other day she would have been terrified to unfurl that part of herself in front of so many people- anyone that wasn't him- but today she didn't care. Today she had to embrace her darkness so she could get to the love of her life in the darkest time of his. She needed him, and he needed her and nothing was going to inhibit that.

The doctor's eyes softened a little after the initial shock of the broken girl's stone words wore away, sympathy leaking through his professional exterior for the girl who had been through hell and back in less than 24 hours.

"We're all he's got. We are his family." Archie added sincerely and Betty spared a moment from glaring at the older man before her to shoot a grateful smile at her best friend.

"Okay," the man relented "But two at a time please."

Betty moved with a new energy, one that should not have been possible in her current state of distress and fatigue. The doctor had barely managed to move aside before the determined blonde was pushing through the double doors that led to the ICU rooms. She heard a call of "Room 106" from the distance but she was too far gone to really acknowledge the doctor apprehensively warning those left about the shock of seeing him in such a state.

Her heart was pounding erratically in her chest, so hard she thought it might pierce through the skin. Her bloodshot, sore eyes squinting at the numbers on rooms passed by as her feet clad in worn converse squeaked on shiny tiles. She swallowed down the fit of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her again and obsoletely wondered how long it would be before she could see tiles and not see blood stains flowing over them. Her head was spinning and her skin felt like it was suffocating her, but she didn't care. None of that mattered.

Eventually she reached her destination. Her feet came to a halt and she stood for a moment in front of a dark grey door with a small window, the number **106** painted across it. She let out a shaky exhale, blood pounding in her ears, as her trembling hand, slightly hidden in the depths of Jughead's flannel reached out to turn the handle.

When she finally managed to get her fingers to cooperate and grip the handle properly, Betty felt as if her skin had become infused to the metal. For a long drawn out second she stood frozen, fear and anticipation battling within her. Eventually the cosmic pull that she always felt in his presence refused to be denied any longer and she found herself pulling the door open and taking a slow but deliberate step into the room.

Her hands came up to cover her mouth and suppress the choked sob her lips emitted. Her eyes landed on Jughead who lay before her in a hospital bed. Only it wasn't the Jughead she knew. This Jughead was pale and broken, with a tube down his throats alleviating him of the responsibility to breathe and a thousand others poking out from his limbs. His chest was covered now by a hospital gown but she could make out layers upon layers of bandage underneath hiding the horrific wound from view. His dark hair was free of its woollen prison and already messily around the pillow. His body was stoic and the steady beep of machines echoed through the room. It was dark and dreary.

She stood awkwardly, heart broken in the threshold, unsure of what to do now that she was here. Her mind was spinning with images of blood and guns and blissful mornings waking up in the same sheets, of blaring flat lines and men in balaclavas and dizzying kisses on kitchen counters and inside pastel bedrooms.

She wiped the tears that were gathering in her eyes roughly and cautiously moved to sit in the chair beside his bed. Her soul was searing in pain at the sight of him, so broken and weak. He had weathered so many storms and been so strong through them all, and now here he was, he victim of a brutal attack, battered and literally shot down.

Gingerly her hand moved to grasp his. It was strange to lace her fingers through his as a monogamous effort, no reciprocation from his limbs. And somehow it was that small reminder that mad everything seemed so much more real. Like the pain that had been coursing through her veins all day had made her numb to the effects of reality and it was all an awful dream. But now being here with him, unable to engage with him, to crawl into his strong, safe arms-the one place she felt most at home in the world- it all felt so shockingly, trepidatingly, painfully real.

Another broken sound ripped from her chest. As her other hand came to grip his still cold one.

"Hi," she whispered quietly. There were so many words she wanted to speak but her tongue couldn't seem to form them. Her thumbs stroked his palm. Her eyes flitted across his face. If it weren't for all the machinery around them she may have thought he looked peaceful; his face usually set in a mask of furrowed brows, lips a tight line, eyes sceptical on in private moments with lips turned in a handsome smirk or boyish smile, with soft blue irises when she said something witty, or something he was proud of. Now it was blank, dark lashes ghosting pale cheeks, symmetrical features glazed over in a drug induced sleep.

"You scared the hell out of me. I've never felt so empty in my life."

Another shuttering breath. Another stroke of warm fingers on battered skin.

"I almost lost you."

Another tear, another harsh beep of machines.

"And the problem is, I don't think I can survive without you here. Because you're it for me. You belong with me. And I love you and I need you. So you have to keep fighting okay?"

Her green eyes implored his figure, foolishly hoping for a sign that he had heard her. She sniffed, bringing his hand to her mouth and pressing a tender kiss there.

A cough broke through the near silence of the room, contrasting the obnoxious commentary of machines. It was heart wrenching, like every sound was taunting her, keeping her on edge waiting for it to transition to flat lines again, while simultaneously inviting more hope each time they didn't.

Her head turned for a split second to acknowledge who was in the room with her- it was Archie- before turning immediately back to Jughead afraid to let him out of her sights for too long.

"Shit..." Archie breathed. Shuffling forward. He came to a careful stop behind Betty's chair, placing a hand on her shoulder in a show of unification as he examined his broken brother.

"He looks so..."

"I know," the blonde agreed quietly.

"What do you we do?" Archie asked after a moment sounding as lost and scared as she did. And for once Betty didn't have it in her to be his rock. She couldn't be strong for him right now. She was reserving all of her strength for the enigmatic, brooding boy who lay before them. He needed all of her to fight with all of him. So instead she said the only thing she truly knew to be true in that moment rather than placating sentiment.

"Be here."

And they were. Neither spoke again for a long while, sitting in bated silence, watching the disrupted rise and fall of his chest and sending out their own prayers. Every few minutes Betty would stroke his hair or kiss his hand or forehead, reminding Jughead to keep fighting and that she was with him and that she loved him. Archie felt his chest ache at the show of sheer deviating and for a minute selfish moment let himself wonder how they got here. Not in the physical sense although he would ask about that later, but in the emotional and social sense. He wondered for that split second how he became the outsider looking in on them rather than Jughead being the third party to Archie and Betty or Betty being the observer in the Archie and Jughead program. He wondered when he stopped being her sun and the moon and the stars and just became a whisper in the background. But then the machine stuttered for a fraction and his panic surpassed his self absorbed musing. The guilt hit as soon as the sounds returned to comfort and he berated himself for thinking such things at this time.

"Mind if I sub in?" Fred asked from the door way. They both knew who he was talking to. There was no need to discuss. Wordlessly Archie got up and exited the room, with another squeeze to the flannel clad girls shoulder. Fred entered solemnly. Sighing as he took in the morbid sight before him.

"How's he doing?" The Andrews patriarch asked gently. Betty lifted her head from where it lay atop their joined hands and offered him a lazy, fatigued shrug.

"He's alive," she returned, steady yet full of implication too dreadful to contemplate. Fred nodded, coming to rest on the edge of the bed.

"Hey Jug," his gravelly voice greeted. Betty's gaze dropped back to her boyfriends face as Fred continued, giving him a little privacy to speak without inhibition.

"Don't give up son. You've been so strong for so long. You've made it through shit the rest of us would've laid down in front of. Keep fighting Jughead."

And with that he lay a gentle, fatherly hand on the ebony haired boys cheek, giving a long glance before rising again.

He moved wordlessly out of the room and somewhere in her mind Betty was grateful for his ability to coexist with others so well.

Her mother appeared next. She was in a rare light of delicacy and affection, trenched in worry for both teens before her, rather than her usual harsh lines and intimidating posture.

She moved to the other side of the room, setting some flowers down on the small table beside the bed.

"I thought it would brighten the space up a little," Alice noted upon her daughters look of confusion. Betty nodded, before returning to watching, and waiting. Alice gently perched on the hospital bed, careful not to disrupt the gunshot victim or the tubs hanging out of him.

"Well Jughead Jones, I thought I could rely on you not to make my daughter cry. You've disappointed me," she spoke softly.

Betty raised her eyes to her mother who was adorning a small smile and kind yet pain stricken eyes. The blonde teenager let out a wry snort, the sound feeling foreign and wrong in that moment but a slight relief from all the other emotions wracking her body.

"Do me a favour. Get better so she doesn't have to anymore."


	4. Chapter 4

Slowly afternoon trickled into evening and then evening transitioned into night; black, bleak and filled with questions and fear. Betty mourned at the irony of it. Just last night she had been confronted with what she then thought to be an immense source of uncertainty- the jacket.

Yet, Jughead had been there to quell the gnawing sensations of worry, listening to her fears and dissolving them for the most part with his words of conviction, strong arms and passionate kiss. She wasn't naïve enough to believe him joining a gang wasn't dangerous- she knew it was- but she also knew he needed a family, needed people in his corner, especially now that he was on the Southside and she couldn't always be there. But with his touch he had dispelled her primary fear of losing him.

But now here she was, reminded that her concern last night had been ill placed.

Because it wasn't the Southside that was pulling him away from her- It was the North. She was convinced after the display of unity she had witnessed last night that the Serpent's would not shoot one of their own. It was the North that had him fighting for his life before her eyes with her helpless in a chair by his side. It was the North that had her facing the long and daunting night of questions and heart wrenching possibilities alone without the haven of her boyfriend's touch, scent, words and embrace to climb into and hold her together while it all fell apart.

People had alternated, fazing in and out of the room throughout the afternoon and evening. Each offered a sentiment of hope, an affirmation of strength or a prayer. They regarded Jughead with an expression of shock horror and sadness and then Betty with sympathy and pity. Veronica had sat with her for an hour, merely offering support in her presence and not saying a word. Polly had brought balloons clearly sharing Alice's earlier idea of brightening the room. Hal had brought her a sandwich from the crappy hospital cafeteria forcing her to eat half, before switching places with Kevin who offered updates about his dad's investigation.

It was all redundant though.

All the talk went through one ear and out the other if it reached her ears at all. Most of it was white noise, drowned out by the pit growing in her stomach, the boulder weighing on her chest and the constrictor around her lungs.

Nurses came by at regular intervals, checking tubes and machines and scribbling on charts and commenting on the "good signs". But none of it consoled her and Betty was sure she would not be appeased until she was able to look into his clear blue eyes and hear his full lips tell her he loved her again. It was funny how quickly the phrase had become so essential to her survival. 24 hours ago she had never heard the honest sound orated by his mouth directed at her. Yet, now she felt as though those three words were oxygen and she was suffocating without breathing them in.

The congregation of support in the waiting room eventually cleared for the evening. Leaving the Coopers and the Andrew's to ruminate with the horrific events of the day. Betty refused to move from her position bedside, convicting that she wouldn't leave him until she was unequivocally sure he would be okay.

Her father and Polly bade goodnight eventually, giving the still unconscious Jughead apprehensive looks from the doorway, before turning to Betty with the last of their encouraging, and pitying smiles for the night. Her mother held out longer, but eventually Betty and Fred convinced her too to go home and rest. Betty gathering the last of her coherent thoughts to assure her mother she would call her if she needed anything and that it was best for her to be there for a very pregnant Polly. Fred insisted he would stay to further placate the apprehensive Alice, unable to leave the boy he thought of like a son, and unfazed by the discomfort of the waiting room.

So that left Betty and Archie in the small hospital room again.

They sat in silence for a long time. Each a prisoner to their thoughts and fears.

Around 9pm the doctor removed the tube down Jughead's throat, deeming him stable enough and capable enough of breathing on his own. The action bred a new wave of strength through Betty's torn and fragile soul, hope filtering into her heart and making her shoulders lose some of the tension.

The doctor offered them each an encouraging smile, reminding them that each hour he made it through, was a positive sign, and things were looking up.

The door closed behind the white coat and Archie looked toward Betty. Her eyes were on Jughead, the edges soft and watery as they took in his face. The colour was more pigmented now and he seemed less corpse like; the thought allowed the red head to take his next breath with a greater sense of ease.

"He looks peaceful… I don't know like he could be sleeping," he offered, grasping at any words that could right the smile on her face, or mend the cracks in her image. The Betty Cooper before Archie Andrews at that second was a stranger, a semblance of a person he knew but couldn't quite reach. This Betty Cooper was vulnerable in a way he had never seen, yet infinitely strong at the same time. She seemed so lost and so sure of where she needed to be at the same time. She wasn't the Betty Cooper he was familiar with, pink lace, pastel blue, tight pony tails and reassuring smiles. It was disconcerting and threw him way off balance.

Betty didn't look away from Jughead's face, instead reaching out a small hand to brush his hair back again. He did achieve a smile from her, but not the kind he had been hoping for. This smile was miniscule and ghosting, as if reminiscent.

He was right too. As Betty's hand brushed through his thick locks and her tender gaze fell to his face Archie's words echoed in her head. _Peaceful._ Her brain stirred with images of dark hair contrasted against pastel pink linen, sheets pooled around his waist and muscles bared to her eyes. She saw clearly the little crease in his brows and the slight frown he would sometimes develop in his sleep. She would trace her fingers over it, soothing his skin. She thought of the feel of his chest under her fingers when she would wake first and trace idle patterns. She thought of the morning and the same expression of peace that had adorned his face as he fell asleep, her falling into slumber shortly after content. It was a sick contrast to seeing that look on his face now. The same yet somehow entirely different. It felt like this morning and right now were worlds apart.

Her chest constricted with the emotions running through her veins. Abruptly she realised how close she had been- and maybe still was- to not waking up with him again. Her heart gave an erratic jump at the concept, and the need to be close to him, to feel his skin beneath her hands, his heart beat beneath her touch, see his eyes locked to hers and his grip on her own body- her hands, her face, her waist- became overwhelming. Her eyes burned at the helplessness she felt and the frustration at her greatest comfort and solace being unable to console her as he was the cause of her grief. Her hand drifted from his hair to his cheek, stroking gently, before her chapped lips moved down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to the same spot. She closed her eyes, focussing on the faint Jughead scent that lingered, rather than the sterile smell of disinfectant that burned her senses.

It was however, that chemical burn that reminded the blonde of her surroundings. Her eyes opened and she moved back to a sitting position, running a hand through her hair as the dull hospital walls and clinical atmosphere fought its way back through her haze. She blinked and moved her eyes across the room trying to refocus the weary muscles. Her gaze then fell on Archie who seemed to be studying her intently. He startled a little when their eyes met, moving his gaze awkwardly to the floor.

"What?" Her throaty voice cut through the air. She cringed at the sound, too stark in the tense state of the room.

"Nothing," Archie mumbled shaking his head and sighing. Betty's eyes narrowed.

She was too exhausted to pry, but she felt frustration bubble under her skin none the less. She was grateful for Archie's presence, she was. They needed to support each other right now, and Jughead was his best friend he had every right to be here, plus she admired his loyalty right now, a step toward atoning for previous misgivings. But she also couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that he was cataloguing her actions. She wanted to press him, demand he tell her what he was thinking, or stop looking at her with the "poor Betty" gaze and whatever undertone was mixed in with that look. But she didn't have the will. She was tired and emotionally expended. She also didn't have the motivation or see the levity in filtering her behaviour toward her boyfriend in that moment. Any other day, under any other circumstance she may have been embarrassed by her blatant shows of devotion, but right now it didn't matter. She didn't care if he felt uncomfortable.

After a prolonged moment, Betty's body slumped back in her chair, the tension and frustration leaving her. She couldn't keep it up. She stretched her arms above her head and sighed. Her hands then reclaimed their position over one of Jughead's and she rested her head down atop them. The weight of her eyelids became harder to fight and her eyes drifted shut. She resigned to listening to the constant beeping of the machines attached to her near comatose boyfriend, letting each one lull her further into a state of unconscious filled with dreams of his smirk, and his hands and his words.

On the verge of a sleep she didn't want to fall into but was impossible to resist in her excessive state of fatigue, Betty heard the scrape of a chair on the linoleum floor. Then she felt the warmth of Archie's body close to hers, only a small space between them. His hand, reassuring yet far from the one she wanted to feel at that moment, found perch on her shoulder, squeezing.

"He'll be okay Betty. I promise." Archie whispered, seeming to think she had already passed out. The last thought she had before falling into a restless sleep. Was a bitter "Oh Archie, don't make promises you can't keep," tinged with the wings of hope, because he had to be right.


	5. Chapter 5

A catastrophic bang, followed by a blood curdling scream was what woke her up. Her body going rigid as it flew up from its awkward positon resting against Jughead's sleeping form. Her breathing was laboured and her skin clammy as her eyes took a moment to readjust to her surroundings. Her hands trembled where they held Jughead's and Betty felt a lump in her throat begin to form as mixed emotions infiltrated her system. Part of her was relieved it had just been a nightmare and that no one was actually facing the barrel of a gun before her eyes. But the other part of her sunk and splintered again at the recognition that her nightmare had in fact been real. The broken body of the boy in the bed before her being proof that the traumatising scene had played out hours ago.

Feeling disoriented her eyes searched frantically around the room, her hands gathering the loose strands of her hair into a dishevelled pony tail.

12:30am.

"Betty?" A gruff voice asked. Looking beside her, Betty saw Archie stir, his own body becoming more alert as he was further enveloped by consciousness, a frown of concern forming on his face. Noticing her tears Archie's body went stiff, panic invading his thoughts.

"Jug, he didn't-"

"No!" she cut off quickly with a furious shake of her head. Archie relaxed slightly at that, before his body turned toward hers, placing a hand on her knee. She tried not to visibly flinch at the contact. The gesture was friendly, and one meant to be a show of support- which she truly appreciated- but her skin felt too tight and she was so wound that it felt searing instead. _It's not his fault_ she reprimanded herself. It wasn't Archie's faultthat every touch was a harsh reminder that Jughead was incapable of reaching out to her in that moment.

"What happened?" his tone was full of worry and genuine concern. It implored her to answer.

"Bad dream."

"Oh. Was it…." He swallowed audibly.

"Yeah," her eyes looked away.

"It was like I was living it all over again," She admitted after a beat. Her voice sounded weak and on the verge of tears and she took a steadying breath.

"There was so much blood Arch. It was like… like he was going to drown in it." Archie inhaled sharply, the visuals his head were creating, accompanied by the picture of Betty's own hands stained in crimson, making him feel nauseas and dizzy.

Betty noticed him pale, but pressed on.

"And when he was… shot. It was like the bullet had hit me too. My whole being was just burning and there was this excruciating pain in my chest. And I was so confused because there was no blood and then I looked up and… that's when I realised." She was openly crying now, tears streaming down her face again, one hand scrubbing at her eyes in a shallow attempt to stop them. Her sobs were shaky and choked, tearing through her chest and rehashing the wounds that were far from healed all over again.

Archie was shocked into silence by her confession, unable to comprehend the connection she spoke of. He was more than a little worried about Betty's own state of wellbeing and found himself questioning the validity of her memories while also being unsure if she spoke of the actual or the dream.

He didn't know what to say to her, he didn't think there was anything he could say. So instead he just sat with her and let her cry. Once she had calmed a little, he reached out to her pulling her into a tight embrace which she gingerly accepted. Archie wasn't sure if he had pulled her into the hug to comfort her or himself. Every passing second in the hospital was making him more anxious and a distraught Betty did nothing for his nerves. He understood why she was distressed, but Betty was always the one who stayed level headed, determined to find logic and reason amongst the storms of chaos, she was the reassuring one, the steady presence. So seeing her so shaken and unsure sent his head spinning with awful possibilities and his gut burning with fear.

An abrupt gasp broke the pair from their sombre moment.

Betty pulled out of his grip so quickly Archie almost fell from his chair. Her eyes darted to Jughead's form on the bed, her hands quickly locking on his again. Her breath was bated and her stare intense as she waited for him to rouse. The gasping came again followed by a small splutter. Betty felt hope expand in her chest and desperately tried to restrain the warmth threatening to spill outward through her veins as she watched the very deliberate rise and fall of his chest come with greater ease.

And then she felt the most gratifying sensation on earth. His fingers twitched within her grasp, electrifying her body as her mouth opened in shock. She squeezed back, praying to feel the movement again and hoping like hell her imagination didn't conjure up the feeling.

A beat.

Another.

And then it happened again. This time his fingers moved more surely within the circle of her hands, clenching slightly before relaxing. Her green gaze snapped from the limb to his face just in time to see his eyelashes flutter against his pale cheeks. She gasped as her heart pounded in her chest. The only thought she could register was _please, please, please._

And then like a gift from God himself his eyelids opened and his blue eyes, bloodshot and heavy looking finally was revealed to her.

Betty felt a surge of oxygen sweep into her lungs and they burned with the sensation. Finally after all those long tortuous hours, she could breathe again. The catch in the valves of her heart seemed to mend and it was like her blood started flowing again. The ache in her chest morphed into a completely overwhelming all –consuming sense of relief.

"Thank God," she breathed, as his eyes searched around dazed and confused before landing on her. She choked a sob back when it did.

"Juggie!" she exclaimed, her hands moving to his cheeks, tears she didn't realise she was crying from the sheer velocity of emotions hitting her in that moment leaking out of her own eyes and onto his face.

"Oh god Juggie," she sobbed, her lips coming down to press against every inch of his face.

"Betts?" he choked out, his voice rough like sand paper, and his face contorting in pain as a sharp sensation stabbed through his abdomen at the effort of speech. He felt like poison was searing through his veins and his limbs felt too heavy. His mouth was dry and he felt like he was being held under water for a second before his foggy brain caught up. His eyes landed on the beautiful blonde beside him and he tried to focus his feeling on the warmth of her fingers on his cheeks.

"Yeah Jug," she replied softly, her voice full of affection, relief and tears.

He closed his heavy lids for a second, before opening them again, unwilling to separate himself from the pronounced emerald of her gaze, through the shine of tears.

"You were shot, remember?" she spoke softly, thumb running over his skin. The words cut her throat as she got them out, leaving her mouth tasting like blood.

Jughead nodded slightly, his breath hitching at the immense pain the small action brought. Betty held his gaze for a long moment before her shoulders dropped a little.

"I almost lost you," she whispered quieter now. it was so honest and raw Jughead was floored by the emotion. He felt as though he was looking into her soul for a moment, seeing the candid pain behind the words and feeling guilt and something he couldn't define flood his system louder than the pain from his wound for a moment. It was brutal the reminder of how passionately and inextricably there were linked. And he thought that seeing that pain and vulnerability in her was far more excruciating than taking a bullet would ever be.

Responding was a little beyond him in that moment, but she seemed to register his understanding and apology through his eyes.

She took a deep breath steadying herself, before bringing his hand up to her lips, kissing the inside of his palm gently as he watched her.

"I was so empty, so lonely," she breathed into the skin, the air between them was thick with tension and emotion now. "Don't ever do that again. I can't survive without you," Betty affirmed, watching his eyes soften as he took her in. Her body was attuned back to the correct frequency and she could feel his touch healing her soul already. She felt her heart slipping its pieces back into place, with every stuttering rise and fall of his chest and every moment his eyes stayed locked with hers.

Jughead gave a half nod at her words, unable to accomplish more than that.

"I love you, god I love you so much," she finished, pressing her forehead gently to his as a fresh round of tears mingled with their breaths, she pressed a soft but meaningful kiss to his lips and the salt of her crying lingered when she pulled away.

"I love you," he rasped painfully, but it was worth it when he saw the wide grin grace her face at the sentiment. Her chest expanding as she breathed them in.

Archie suddenly cleared his throat awkwardly. He had witnessed the entire moment play out and his initial reaction of relief and joy was overshadowed by a sense of intrusion. The intimacy of the moment made him feel as if he didn't belong in the room, like he was invading and corrupting something pure and private. He didn't know what to do. So he went with the throat clearing.

Betty shuffled slightly to sit on the edge of the hospital bed, keeping her fingers locked in Jughead's though. Archie came to sit in her chair for a second, placing a hand to Jughead's shoulder and giving him a meaningful look.

"You scared the shit out of me bro," he confirmed with a slight smile of gratitude that he was alive. "I'll go get a doctor," he added before shuffling out the room, leaving Jughead and Betty to bask in their moment of appreciation and love and hope.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay so I know it has taken absolutely forever for me to update this and I am SO SO sorry! I have been struggling with writers block and just wasn'y able to transfer the ideas from my brain to the paper… But finally I got it all out!**

 **Thankyou to all you beautiful people who read this you're awesome! Especially those of you who took the time to leave a lovely review; they make my day! And just thankyou generally to all those following or favouriting! You guys are literally the best and I am so grateful for all of you! Xx**

* * *

Jughead was sleeping again, a morphine drip attached to him. The medication adding to his already present exhaustion from the major surgery and pain. The doctor had succinctly explained his injuries and their plan of treatment when he had returned to the room, Archie and Fred in tow; a collapsed lung, broken ribs, severe internal bleeding and of course the entry wound itself. He would stay in the ICU for now with careful monitoring. The morphine would keep the pain at bay and increase drowsiness which was a good thing because he needed rest.

Jughead did his best to protest the words but his body was transitioning from excruciating pain to drug induced numbness, making the words jumble a little and the information difficult to absorb.

The only thing that had really stuck out to him was the sentence, "you died on the table" making his blood run cold for a second. It was odd, death had been an twisted fantasy once upon a time. He was never suicidal per say, but sometimes he indulged in thoughts of eternal peace and wondered if maybe he would garner more attention in death than in life. He never really wanted to die, but there had been days buried in the past now in which he wished for non-existence. Yet, when the doctor had uttered those words his heart pounded resoundingly in his chest and bile that had nothing to do with his physical expenditure of the day rose in his throat. His eyes had automatically found the girl steadfast by his side, her hand latched to his in a firm grasp. One look was all he needed to find the agony that facet of information had birthed inside of her. The way her fingers gripped his slightly tighter and her chest stilled in bated breath at the mention letting him know her heart was tearing. It broke him. His wound flaring nastily as his heart cracked and the debris lodged itself within the hole in his body.

 _No._ was the only syllable that his fuzzy mind could conjure. No. They didn't leave each other. They fought, and didn't let things tear them apart. And the thought that he had almost broken that unspoken promise to her was what gripped his heart with ice. The thought of there not being a _them_ even if he no longer a tangible entity to witness that loneliness flooded him with grief; not a narcissistic type, but mourning for the life they could have had and almost lost.

After her confession of love, he knew that life was not a farfetched picture conjured by his mind to torture him it was in fact, a real possibility and knowing that made him want it all the more. And the thought of Betty left with her demons and battles and beautifully cracked soul, nursing her own shattered pieces and fighting in isolation made him want to cry and scream all at once.

The rest of the words were a tangled blur. Once the doctor had left, Fred had spoken to him more than with him for a little while, as Jughead was restrained to tiny nods of the head and a rasped choice of words every now and then. His limbs too heavy to move, his head too fuzzy to focus and his throat to dry to make effort.

Betty hadn't strayed from his side. She fell in and out of consciousness throughout the night/early morning. Sometimes he would wake when she did and she would press a light kiss to his lips, and whisper words of love on them before moving back to run her hands gently over his cheek, through his hair, or down his chest careful not to disrupt the wound. Her eyes were filled with awe, overshadowing their sadness, content to bask in the fact that he was _alive_ and with her for the night, rather than consider all the implications such an incident brought with it. She was sure that storm would come, but not now.

At around 7:30am she awoke to a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and a hushed "Betty."

The dishevelled blonde blinked a few times before her eyelids found the strength to hold themselves up. The hospital room was becoming a familiar waking sight now, white walls, sleeping Jughead, restless Archie, steady beeping of monitors.

Sitting up from where she had been curled in the chair, Betty looked up at Fred. He offered her a small smile as she looked at him expectantly.

"I was thinking the three of us could get some breakfast," he whispered in the way people generally did in the early hours of the morning even though the hospital didn't sleep and therefore, could not be woke and Jughead was still heavily sedated.

Betty eyed him apprehensively, feeling more inclined to the idea of food then last night but still unwilling to leave his side. She knew it was irrational in a sense, he was doing well, he was stable but the reminder of how easily he could be taken away from her- was taken from her- still stung and rang fresh in her thoughts. She had exhaustively proved that nothing would tear them apart, yet, the growing tension in town was beginning to test her theory and the events of the last 24 hours had made her realise that their fate wasn't entirely their own and they had many outside forces to battle with now, as well as new ones to embrace.

Sensing her hesitancy Fred bent down to her level- this wasn't a power trip like the parental ones she was used to.

"Betty, I know it's hard to leave someone you love, but I promise you we won't be long and he will probably still be sleeping when we get back," the patriarch reasoned and reassured simultaneously. Weighing up the decision made Betty's chest feel tight. Logically she knew he would probably sleep through and if he did wake it would be in a largely unresponsive groggy haze but she still hated the thought of him being alone.

"There are also some things we need to discuss," Fred eventually caved in. And from Archie's raised eyebrows it seemed like the information and ulterior motive that had not been divulged to any party yet.

Betty nodded, rising to her still half asleep limbs and pushing her hands through her hair. Fred patted her shoulder again in a show of support, and moved to the hallway. Archie on the other hand waited for her, wanting to begin the new day as a united front. He observed her with quiet contemplation as Betty hastily tied her blonde tresses into a bun atop her head. The sight of her like this was foreign to him- unfazed by appearance, dishevelled and raw. It made his head reel wondering whether it was tragedy or Jughead that brought this out in her. He had initially thought it was the former but the long restless night had left him ruminating over vast aspects of life and he had realised she was dressed in his clothes before she changed, her hair down then too, so maybe it was the latter.

The thought made him uneasy, in a segregated way to the sight of his oldest and best friend lying helpless in a hospital bed- that had made him distraught with prayer his only vice, this made him feel suddenly on the out and left him questioning how he got there.

Archie's attention was drawn back to the present moment by Betty who was leaning over Jughead's sleeping form now, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead and murmuring that they wouldn't be long. As she pulled away her lip became trapped under her teeth. He chose that moment to engage her attention, hoping to distract her.

"Come on Betty, we both know you won't be able to function if you don't have coffee soon," he spoke lightly, swallowing the lump in his throat and deciding it was his turn to be the strong one.

Betty offered him a weak smile and sighed, moving toward him and wrapping her hands around one of his arms.

"Best we go find some then," she returned. Archie nodded and held the door open for her, this time he was the one shooting lingering glances back into the room.

Fred was waiting for them in the hallway, chatting to a nurse with his eyebrows pinched together, though he quickly righted his expression as soon as he saw the pair.

"Thankyou," he directed at the nurse, who nodded at all of them before moving into Jughead's room. Betty's eyes followed her, teeth clamping down on her lower lip again and her hands curling tighter around Archie's arm.

"What was- "she began but Fred quickly intervened hearing the panic begin to infiltrate her tone.

"Don't worry, I just told her we would be in the cafeteria just in case anything happens while we're gone, not that it will," he assured and Betty's shoulder's lost some of their tension.

A little while later the three were sat at a small table in the hospital's mostly empty cafeteria each nursing an egg and bacon sandwich and a cup of coffee. It reminded Betty of mornings that seemed like a lifetime ago. Mary had just moved to Chicago and she had taken it upon herself to bring breakfast to the Andrew's men. Fred would make coffee and the three would sit around the table eating, drinking and chatting idly about anything and nothing taking comfort in the three chairs that were filled rather than two which was something Archie had not yet been ready to face. The memory comforted her somewhat, appreciating the irony that it was now her who was not ready to see an unoccupied chair.

Eventually though reality won out over comfort and the chill that had been seeping into her bones since blood had been seeping out on the diner floor broke the blonde from her reverie as rain broke through the clouds outside. The heavy patter on the pavement making the day feel more grim.

"So you wanted to talk to us about… something?" she probed politely.

"Yeah dad what's up?" Archie added in while the two teens gave the adult of the table their undivided attention. He sighed, turning his takeaway coffee cup in his hands.

"Okay so as you guys know Jug was supposed to move in with a foster family this week. But now…"

"Now he's here for an indefinite amount of time," Betty supplied transgressing into detective Cooper mode, her forehead creasing as she tried to connect the dots.

"Exactly. And well they haven't even met Jughead yet and there's not exactly a shortage of kids in the foster care system which means-"

"There may not be a place for him there when he gets better," Betty finished, her stomach dropping.

"Wait I don't understand, can't he just be put with a different family?" Archie asked, glancing between his dad and neighbour who were sporting similar expressions of concern that made him feel on edge.

"Yes, except there's no guarantee there will be a home in Riverdale that can take him in." Fred explained, with a heavy sigh and Archie's own heart plummeted.

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a long moment, each carried away with their personal musings of the unfairness of the world.

"We'll work it out," Betty eventually stated with such conviction that it shocked the men. She didn't look physically capable of producing such strength in that moment, after such a traumatising predecessor of a day, yet the affirmation in her voice was unwavering and steady. Neither Andrew's responded for a moment.

"That's not all unfortunately," Fred continued after the silence drew out a while longer, feeling he had given them both sufficient time to process that piece of information.

Betty felt her chest tighten with anxiety, images of Jughead and frantic paramedics rushing through her brain, images of a broken Jughead telling her about his new living situation, images of snake emblems.

"I don't know the full story but things with his mum aren't good. She doesn't want him in Toledo which is why he has to go in the system anyway, but the hospital rang her when he was in surgery. She's not coming down." The older man's voice was laden with notes of sadness and disbelief.

Betty's eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe what she was just told. It made her blood boil beneath her skin and her heart break all over again for the love of her life who was too damn good for this world, constantly protecting others and carrying burden's above his weight, while the world came firing down on him time and time again. His mother was clearly a horrific person she concluded, barely caring if her earliest memories corresponded with that. Her son almost died- did die, she corrected with darkness threatening to spill over- and she wasn't coming?

"Are you kidding me?" Archie asked his dad incredulously and Betty sensed the notes of anger she had been feeling in his friends tone.

Fred shook his head solemnly.

A little while later Betty found herself back in Jughead's hospital room. He hadn't woken while they were gone and the thought flooded her with comfort. She didn't want him to feel alone, especially after what she now knew regarding his less than ideal mother.

Fred had taken Archie home when her mother had arrived again, the latter reluctant to go, but giving in to his dad's reasoning of showering and changing clothes; they would return later.

Alice had brought Betty a pair of jeans and a fresh shirt to change into as well as supplies for a shower. Her daughter had accepted them graciously, and left to freshen up. And that's how the Cooper women found herself alone with the Jones boy, as he began to stir.

Jughead blinked his heavy lids a few times, before his glazed eyes opened. His body still felt as though someone had replaced his veins with led, although the pain was almost non-existent now with the aid of the morphine. He was short of breath though due to the recovering punctured lung, and that paired with his groggy drug effected mind, left speech a challenge.

Upon noticing him wake, Alice placed her laptop down and moved closer to the bed.

"Hi Jug-head," she spoke with her usual savviness but not unkindly. In fact any sober person in the room may have even detected a small hint of affection in her tone.

Jughead's eyes moved to where she sat, his lips curving in a strenuous smile.

"Hi," he croaked, a small cough following the noise.

"Shh don't strain yourself," Alice soothed. "It's good to see you awake," she added a smile finding her own lips.

"Betty went to shower and change, she should be back in a moment," his girlfriend's mother explained and then proceeded to interject the comfortable silence every now and then to relay a detail about her article to him- the one in which his showdown with the shooter starred.

Betty appeared a few minutes later, hair damp and clothes changed, bar his flannel that was draped over her shoulders, buttons undone to reveal the white t-shirt underneath.

"Thanks for bringing this mum-" her words died at the end, as she noticed her favourite pair of blue eyes were open and her mother was talking to the owner of them. "You're awake, hey" the blonde's tone softened along with her eyes as her chest fluttered with warmth and relief.

Jughead shot her a slight but affectionate grin, drawing all his effort to reach a hand toward her. Betty gladly accepted the gesture, placing her own hand in his, and bringing her other up to brush his dark locks away from his face.

"Hi," Jughead rasped at her, his eyes sparkling at the refreshing view of the only bright spot in the otherwise dull hospital.

"I'm going to get a coffee, do you want anything Elizabeth?" Alice asked, abruptly snapping Betty from her concerned and love filled haze. She shook her head at her mother who then vacated the room.

"How are you feeling?" Betty asked making a move to sit in the chair beside his bed. Jughead slightly shook his head at her and motioned to the place beside him on the small bed with his eyes. Betty beamed in understanding and cautiously moved to lie beside him, their hands clasped over her lap.

"Like I got shot or got high," Jughead attempted to joke although the cough and wheeze that accompanied the words didn't exactly set Betty at ease. Her brows furrowed in concern as she searched his face for any prominent signs of distress. Finding none, she settled back against the pillows a sigh leaving her lips.

"You're hilarious," she retorted wryly finding some solace in his sardonic remark that was so typically Jughead she ached.

The rest of the morning was spent in relative ease. Obviously tension remained and Betty's anxiety and worry continued to plague at her, but every time a doctor passed in and out with a smile and pleased expression she felt a little better. Jughead drifted in and out of sleep and visitors drifted in and out of the room.

By lunch time Betty even felt assured enough to leave Archie and Veronica behind in the hospital room while she sought coffee and food for the three of them. Jughead had managed to stay awake for a few hours before drifting out again which was a largely positive sign and she could almost breathe normally again.

Almost.

Rounding the corner of the hall his room as located on, Betty spotted a familiar uniform that made her fingers curl in her palms.

Sheriff Keller spotted her almost instantly and began to make his way over. Betty felt her breathing speed up and her chest tighten further at the implication of what was to come. It wasn't the Sheriff that made her nervous exactly, she knew he would have to question her eventually – although she did plan on looking into the instance herself of course- it was more the fact of reliving the scenario that was easily the most terrifying of her life out again.

"Betty," the Sheriff greeted when he reached her, his gruff voice echoing off the sterile walls of the hospital, "how's Jughead?"

"Doing okay," she replied with a polite smile consistent with her proper upbringing. The Sheriff nodded, before cutting to the chase.

"Can I ask you some questions about yesterday morning?"

Betty swallowed thickly, the nausea already churning in her stomach again.

"Did you get a look at the man who fired the gun?" the Sheriff asked her in a gently yet obviously rehearsed manner.

 _Gun. Blood. Cold eyes. Jughead, keep your eyes on Jughead. Shaking hands. Blood. So much blood. Pain, searing pain. White tiles, leaking crimson. Her hands stained with his blood. Pale skin, cold hands. Oh god there's so much blood…_

"Betty?" the Sheriff repeated. She felt like she was underwater, the sound of his voice muffled and fighting to break through the dark and sadistic cloud her mind was replaying. Her palms felt wet and she realised that she had broken skin. They unfurled and she hastily wiped the residue on her jeans, blinking rapidly.

"No," she answered.

"Are you sure? You didn't notice any tattoos or markings?"

Betty's eyes squinted in confusion. Why was he asking her about tattoos? How could that possibly be-

 _Oh._

Her brain flooded with images of leather jackets and snake emblems, of desperate voices trying to remain calm as their conversation swept them away, of advocacy of family and promises of love and assertions of protection and fragile understanding.

"No." She affirmed this time more surely.

And she was sure. There was no way the Serpents did this; of that she was convinced. It wouldn't make sense, not after they had earnestly [as she believed, especially because Jughead did] pledged their allegiance to him the night before.

Keller raised his brows at her, clearly not as certain as she was.

"It wasn't the Serpent's."

"How can you be so sure?" He asked, making her feel uncomfortable, yet she would not stand down.

"I just am."

"Okay, thankyou," the Sheriff relented, "if you can recall anything else let me know okay."

Cold dread filled her being. She wasn't naïve. She knew what this was. This town was looking for any excuse to call a Serpent cull into action and this was the perfect excuse. No matter the victim was one of the very people they actively shunned for his heritage. Riverdale as she was learning was all about _versions_ of the truth, perception. And this would be no different.

Forget impending civil war, this was fast becoming hell.


	7. Chapter 7

By Wednesday, five days after he had been shot, Jughead was moved out of the ICU. While his injuries were still significant and recovery was still a long road to endure, they were no longer traumatic enough to endanger his heart's ability to beat on its own. His breathing was still laboured due to the collapsed lung, but he was doing it entirely on his own now as well and thus he was deemed stable enough to be admitted to the children's ward.

Perched up against the abundance of pillows in his bed, Jughead watched in amusement as Betty moved around his new hospital room. She had pegged his array of "get well" cards on a string and hung it across the small window sill so that he could see them from the bed, placed the flowers her mother had brought on the table next to his bed, along with his laptop and ensured the television remote was well within his reach. And now she was busy placing books on the limited shelving in the little room while Archie placed some of his clothes and belongings in draws.

"Enlighten me on your literary choices?"

Betty glanced over her shoulder to offer Jughead a grin. He was toying with his hair and that along with his more alert conversational attempts gave her faith that he was indeed beginning to recover. He was still weak and in pain but the morphine dosage had been greatly reduced and the doctors were talking about alternating to less intensive medication soon. So that and the move out of the intensive care unit had her in high spirits that afternoon.

"In Cold Blood, Crime and Punishment-"

"Betty Cooper are you making fun of my getting shot through book choices?" Jughead interrupted his voice raspy but shining with mock offence.

His brows rose sardonically and the image was almost enough to let Betty glimpse past the dark circles beneath his eyes and the still too pale colour of his skin.

"Not deliberately, but I can't help it if your favourites gave me the perfect opportunity," the blonde teased back, poking her tongue out at him for good measure.

Jughead let out a weak laugh and rolled his eyes.

"What else you got?"

"Catcher in the Rye, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and Romeo and Juliet," she finished as she placed the final book in place.

"I didn't know you were a romance kind of guy Jug," Archie teased, placing a poorly folded flannel in a draw.

"Neither did I?" Jughead looked toward his girlfriend again. He had wanted to follow up with a sarcastic comment about how his brooding exterior obviously gave off romantic, sweep you off your feet vibes but speaking was still a bit of a challenge with his impinged lung capacity.

Betty flushed slightly as both boys eyes turned on her holding a question. She shrugged walking over to the duffle bag resting on the arm chair.

"It's one of my favourites," was all she said, busying herself with gathering some toiletries from the bag.

Archie merely nodded taking the things from her to place in the bathroom. Once he was obscured by the small En suite Betty chanced a slightly shy look at Jughead from under her lashes. An affectionate smile was playing at his lips and the hand that had been in his hair reached out for hers. Betty laced her fingers through his naturally and let out a sigh at the feeling. Each small gesture like this seemed to mend a little fraction of her heart, reminding her that he was alive if still fragile.

While the literary choice may have been insignificant to Archie, the connotation of the play was not lost on Jughead. The mention bringing him back to the memory of their first kiss, him climbing through the window to rescue his "Juliet" and both of them finding home in the salvation the action offered; the beginning of this.

"Thank you," he rasped, his lightly trembling fingers grazing over her knuckles.

Betty leant forward slightly to press a sweet kiss to his lips, her hand stroking his cheek. She had taken it upon herself to be mesmerised by every moment now, every feature.

The sound of the door opening prompted Betty to move her hand from his face, staying close but alternating to a less intimate embrace; she was now sitting on the bed next to him, one leg tucked underneath her and their entwined hands in her lap.

Fred appeared in the doorway.

"Hey guys, looks good in here," he praised, a small smile playing on his lips as he took in the decorative changes of the rather dull space.

Jughead turned his eyes to Betty, a warm glow resonating in his meek persona.

"Thanks to Betty's interior design skills," Archie appeared in the bathroom doorway, toiletries successfully placed in the order Betty had mandated.

"Well you did a great job Betty."

The aforementioned girl blushed under the attention, her fingers twiddling with Jughead's in a slight nervous twitch.

"Thanks Mr Andrews."

Fred nodded at the gratitude before shoving his hands in his coat pockets, a tell-tale sign an uncomfortable topic was about to be placed on the metaphorical table.

"Ah Jug, your social worker Ms Weiss is here. If you're feeling up to it she'd like to see you."

Jughead's jaw set a little tighter. He had known this conversation was coming. Although most of his days had been spent in long periods of sleep and haziness from the morphine, he had also caught enough conscious moments awake with the constant ache of pain to allow him time to ruminate on the pieces of the puzzle still yet to slide into place. He knew the hospital was temporary even if his stay was to be relatively extensive and found a spare moment to ask _what next?_ Especially over the last 24 hours when he had become less drowsy and had come more into himself again.

"Yeah okay," He nodded, uneasiness creeping into his body. The feeling irritatingly triggered a burst of anxiety which didn't aid his faulty lung in its mission to filter oxygen, bringing forth a splattering cough and a round of wheezing breaths.

Betty immediately straightened up beside him, angling her body to face him and scanning his form with concerned eyes.

"Jug… Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" she asked, her hand resting on his shoulder and easing him back into the mountain of pillows she had assembled behind him. Her voice was soft and Jughead felt some of the tension and apprehension slip away at her care.

"Yeah it's okay Betts," he reassured, despite the sound being weak.

Betty nodded after searching his eyes; her bottom lip was still caught beneath her teeth though, a sign of her own hesitancy toward the encounter.

"Okay," Fred peered out the doorway for a moment signalling for the women to enter.

Ms Weiss appeared a moment later, the clack of heels against the linoleum floor of the hospital room echoing after each step and her crisp grey pant suit a stark contrast to her gentle smile and bright eyes.

"Jughead, I'm glad to see you're feeling better. I was so sorry to hear about what happened," her tone was sincere and Betty let out a little sigh of relief feeling comforted by the women's seemingly genuine intent to help rather than entertain prejudice and facades like so many of the people in Riverdale seemed to do.

"Thanks," Jughead expressed before a tense silence fell like a cloak upon the room.

"Ah do you want us to wait outside Jug?" Archie asked after a beat, shuffling awkwardly in his place by the En suite door.

Jughead shook his head. In the brief moment that he met his friend's eyes, Archie realised he not only didn't mind if they stayed but he wanted them to. They were his family and he needed them.

"So I just wanted to have a chat about your living arrangements. I know you won't be admitted for a little while which unfortunately brings up some complications," Ms Weiss paused for a moment, her smile faltering and her face turning serious; not unkind though.

Jughead nodded signalling for her to continue.

"I get the sense you're not the kind of kid to beat around the bush so I'll be straight with you. I tried to fight for you and keep your spot open given the circumstances, but unfortunately there are a lot of children in the foster system and not as many foster parents, so another child has been placed with the family we had set you up with. The system can be cruel when it's trying to be efficient."

Jughead appreciated her candid approach, though it didn't do much to quell the dread washing through him. Another complication, another set-back. His life seemed to be a rotating orchestra of chaos and let downs at the moment. It didn't shock him at this point, nothing ever went smoothly for someone raised of his calibre.

The hand holding his squeezed a little tighter, soothing circles rubbing against his palm and Jughead was again thankful for the bright spot in his dark world, easing the load a little and reminding him what he had to fight and be grateful for. Betty was always there, fighting for him, fighting for them, anchoring him and keeping his head above water.

"Okay, so what happens to me?"

Ms Weiss, frowned sympathetically, and when she spoke it was again sincere allowing Jughead to trust her just a little.

"Well we know you'll be in here for a little while so that gives me some time to make alternative arrangements. There are good people out there who want to help, it can be a little harder with teenagers though. And well some people may be more inclined to help because of your injuries, while others may not. I promise you though Jughead I will work something out."

Jughead exhaled shakily, absorbing the new information as best as he could. His head sunk back against the pillows further and his own fingers gripped onto Betty's in a steel grip. If it hurt her she didn't let it show.

"Thank you," he managed to eventually get out and Ms Weiss nodded in kind.

"I'll be in touch and please if you need anything or have any questions give me a call. Mr Andrews has my details. Know that you are a priority for me though Jughead, you've been through a lot. Feel better."

Again Jughead was astounded by her genuine interest in him, a fact he took some comfort in. However, one thing he had learnt over years of hardship was that good people weren't always able to make good things happen. Even those with admirable intent were not immune to the curse of suffering especially when trying to aid those who were trapped in a cycle of sufferance. He had no doubt she would try, he did however, doubt how effective her efforts could be.

Ms Weiss offered a final smile, shaking Fred's hand before exiting the room, the echo of her heels fading into the distance.

Words were abandoned in the room. None of them quite knew what to say, and more than that there was nothing that really could be said. The situation was one of frustration and sadness for all parties.

Fred stood wracked with regret over his ill informed decision and lack of financial equity that prevented him from keeping the boy he thought of like a second son from his care, while Archie leant against the wall, head back and mind clouded with irritation toward the cruelty of the world and why it kept throwing curve balls at his friend.

Meanwhile Betty was left in shambles of worry and an aching heart. She felt anger toward the continual stream of disappointment Jughead faced, the lack of stability people offered him through both their own fault and circumstances they could not foresee. She was scared about the future, anxious about the unknown, yet slightly appeased by his case worker's dedication. Most of all though, she was cautious of Jughead's reaction. She knew he would try and digest the situation, store it away and put on a brave face of sardonic humour and nonchalance to get through it. But she also knew that he was probably feeling dejected and exhausted and frustrated and disappointed.

Scanning his face Betty knew she was right. She was sure Fred and Archie would logically know the affect this would have on Jughead to some extent, but she was also convinced the Andrews men were not as attuned to his tells as she was, and thus, would be unable to recognise his immediate distress. It was his tight jaw, ever so slightly pulled in brows, minutely turned down corners of his mouth and the minuscule fading of light in his eyes that gave him away to her. The firm grasp his hand held on hers was another indication.

"I know it's far an ideal situation Jug but all you can do now is focus on resting and getting better and let Ms Weiss focus on sorting everything else out," Fred eventually tried to placate, once again slipping into the role of pseudo parent.

"She seems pretty determined," Archie threw in, pushing off the wall and trying his best to find the light his friend was surely missing.

Jughead nodded but continued to stare hard at an abstract patch of white wall.

"Alright we should get going and let you get some rest," Fred spoke nodding at Archie who obliged, offering Jughead a squeeze on his shoulder and a small smile before moving toward the door.

"Betty your mother will kill me if I don't bring you with us," Fred prompted gently, feeling another pang of guilt for having to split the young couple apart in a time when they needed each other.

"Sure, I'll meet you outside in a moment?" the blonde asked, despite having no intention of hearing a negative answer.

Her eyes remained on Jughead though, the green orbs piercing and dissecting, the organ inside her chest pinching at his misfortune. Fred nodded and held the door open for Archie.

Once they were alone, Betty brought Jughead's hand up to her pink stained lips pressing a gently kiss to his palm. The action was so tender Jughead wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or cry, although his exhausted physical and mental state probably wouldn't appreciate either in that moment.

"Juggie, look at me," His blue eyes met hers cooperatively.

The little bubble was sealing around them again, empathetic and determined green quashing the uncertain and down trodden blue as their gazes met in an emotional flurry.

One of her marred hands moved to cup his cheek; a soft caress that held so much care and love Jughead couldn't breathe for an entirely segregated reason to his busted lung.

"I'm here and _we're_ going to work this out, I promise," Betty's words were so full of dedication Jughead couldn't help but cling to the hope in them.

He knew she must be feeling almost as thrown off kilter as he by the uncertainty staring down upon them but he also knew Betty Cooper was strong and fierce and when she believed in something she followed through. And knowing that they were a "we" and he was no longer a singular entity made the weight of the unknown, the sting of not having a home a little easier to bear.

"Okay," he breathed meekly, leaning into her touch and letting her consume him.

Betty searched his eyes a moment later before kissing the corner of his mouth- feather light but with such tender meaning.

"Okay," she whispered, letting herself become a little more vulnerable on parting.

"I'll see you tomorrow, rest up." And instead of watching a flurry of blonde and pastel whirl out the door with an exuberant energy like he had so many times before, Jughead watched a reluctant heart leave his room with a languid pace, the feel of her lingering in the room long after she had left.

Betty walked briskly from the hospital room, smiling politely at the nurses on the way out and fighting with every fibre of her being not to turn back around. Although Alice had been understanding toward the situation and even shown Jughead a relative amount of affection in the dire situation she was beginning to revert back to her usual ways. And that meant Betty was expected to be home for dinner.

The Cooper family had aired their fair share of dirty laundry over the past six months and Betty was hopeful it would ease the tension in their house, but her mother was still her mother- a force to be reckoned with. And so now that it was clear Jughead would be okay Alice had begun imposing her will on Betty again, setting out curfew on weeknights, and being quite clear her life wasn't going to wait for Jughead to get better and she still had to acknowledge her responsibilities, including school which she was being forced to attend to tomorrow.

The cool air of the late winter night washed over her as soon as Betty exited the automatic doors of Riverdale Hospital. Its bite was refreshing, helping to clear her mind from the tangled thoughts it was enduring. She took a moment to revel in the whip of the wind over her cheeks, making them blush with the cold.

Taking a deep breath and feeling her lungs fill with frozen oxygen Betty steeled her persona again, pulling her thick coat tighter around her body and heading for Fred's truck while the sky began to stain with purple shades of night, late afternoon disappearing in its demanding hour.

"Okay?" Fred asked when she clambered into the back seat. Betty nodded, blowing her warm breath over her now chilled hands hoping to warm the skin.

"Is he…" Archie began, twisting around in the passenger seat to face Betty.

Despite the sentence hanging in the air unfinished, Betty knew what her long-time friend was asking her- _is he retreating into himself?_

"He's coping."

Archie's eyes bore into her, seeming to try and dissect the scenes of minutes prior locked into the sanctuary of her mind; curious to the happenings between his two closest friends that he was not privy to.

On his part, Archie once again felt the dull ache of exclusion brimming in his chest. Logically he knew a couple was two. And that two was Betty and Jughead. He also knew that they had become each other's confidants early in the year, before they had gotten together and he had failed to notice back then. But now when dire circumstances brought them back to their little trio, he was painfully aware of his sudden segregation. It was strange, being the secondary to each of them. Because up till this year it had always been Jughead playing bystander to the _Archie-and-Betty show_ or Betty acting as the audience to the _Archie-and-Jughead show_ , but now he was the one watching. But what stung the most was the things that they were sharing with each other were things that Archie was sure neither of them probably ever would have shared with him even before this development. Especially Betty…

Betty squirmed slightly under his stare, feeling her own anxieties crawl across her skin at Archie's disbelief and concern.

"What about you?"

 _Oh._

Betty stilled momentarily as she realised Archie's scrutinizing gaze wasn't entirely about adducing details about Jughead's state but rather about attempting to uncover her own state of distress. And as much as Betty appreciated the effort she couldn't help but feel a slight nagging that something was off. Pertaining it to _everything_ that was happening around her, Betty brushed the feeling aside.

"I'm managing. I just hate leaving him alone right now."

Archie leant forward to place a comforting hand on her knee before righting himself in his seat again.

The rest of the drive was shrouded by silence. As they passed through the town Betty found herself wondering how these streets that looked so similar to the ones of childhood memories, then a vessel of innocence and safety had become one of darkness and hidden truths. Sighing she rested her head on the cool class of the window.

Hours later after sitting through a draining dinner where her parents quizzed her extensively about Jughead's condition and the meeting with the social worker, followed by some slightly patronising but mostly sympathetic sighs and then a non-negotiable order that she was return to school the next day- which Betty found stupid considering the week was almost finished anyway- she found herself alone in her room.

Curled up under the covers of her bed wearing one of Jughead flannels, Betty tried to push away the eminent lull of sleep but failed. Every time she closed her eyes all she could see was his blood soaking the pristine tiles of Pop's, her hands, her clothes, him. Every time sleep pulled her in she would wake in a cold sweat, the sounds of heart monitors flat lining ringing in her ears. Except in her dreams the tormenting noise of the flat lining never returned to steady beeps and his eyes never opened. Tonight was no different.

Scream dying on her lips in her waking state Betty shot up in her bed. Her breath came in pants and she took a moment to realise her surroundings. Running a hand through her now tangled blonde hair, Betty reached over to her night stand for her phone.

 _3:08am_.

Sighing, she unlocked the screen and immediately went to her photo gallery. It was a strange habit she had acquired in the recent nights after awakening from her terrors. Jughead wasn't one to parade in front of a camera but the few snaps they did have always brought a smile to her lips and made her feel a little better. Because for one awful moment Betty had known what it was like to live without him, to be alive without him, to live in a world he was no longer in and she was never ever going to take for granted the moments she did have with him again.

Betty pulled the collar of his flannel up higher, breathing in his lingering scent of tobacco and cologne. It made her feel safe and a little closer to him. Wearing his clothes had been something she had always been rather fond of, but now it was a vice. A self-medicating action she was addicted to.

Betty tried to hold onto his scent as she returned her fingers to her phone screen, scrolling through the photos. She paused on a candid one Veronica had taken of them at Polly's baby shower before the evening had gone to hell. Neither of them had been aware of the raven haired girl's sneaky snap until she had sent it to Betty the next day. She was leading him by the hand toward the kitchen, her head turned down and blonde tresses falling in her face but the angle of the photo clearly captured the smile on her lips, while he trailed behind her, his gaze locked on her and shining with affection while a tender, amusement smile twitched at his mouth.

Betty traced her finger over his figure in the still image, trying to push down her heart ache that seemed to be a constant these days. She knew logically he was still there with her, but she had lost him even if for a moment and now she was absolutely terrified of that happening again. Maybe it was unhealthy- her addiction to him- maybe her level of terror and her constant need to be surrounded by him, with him, was abnormal. But she figured she was allowed to endure some PTSD and if not then maybe this was just love.

The vibration of her phone in her hand startled Betty from her reverie and she quickly opened her text history as confusion as to who would be messaging her at this hour surfaced in her mind. It was quickly dispelled by a sense of serenity though when she saw the little blue dot next to "Jughead" in the list of messages.

 _ **I very much want to believe you are slumbering peacefully in your tower at this hour, but I can't sleep and I have an inkling it evades you too these days…**_

Betty shook her head in astonishment wondering how he could possibly have worked that out when she hadn't yet brought up the nightmares to him and wasn't sure if she was going to. She had done an admirable job ensuring her makeup hid the sleep deprived bags under her eyes. The warmth of how attuned he was to her even when recovering in hospital seeped away as worry took its place.

 _Your inkling would be correct… is everything okay?_

She waited a tense moment, which felt like an eternity waiting for his reply, gnawing at her bottom lip anxiously. Her phone buzzed again and her eyes eagerly absorbed the text.

 _ **Yeah I took a long nap after you guys left and only woke up a little while ago. Plus late night free view TV is antithetical to cinematic greatness.**_

Betty exhaled with relief, her finger nimbly flitting across the keyboard.

 _Are you saying I'm your second choice? ;)_

 _ **Never.**_

 _ **You okay?**_

Always putting her first.

 _Yeah just a lot on my mind._

 _Mum's making me go to school tomorrow…_

 _ **I get the feeling you don't agree with that parental prerogative?**_

 _Your feeling is correct._

 _ **I'll be fine Betts.**_

 _I know._

And logically she did know that. But the part of her mind that was stained crimson with his blood and the played the resounding echo of gun shots on a loop did not. And besides she didn't quite know how to tell him it was her that wouldn't be fine. Being away from him made her anxious now and she didn't like the idea of not seeing him first thing.

 _ **I'll see you in the afternoon?**_

 _Of course!_

 _ **Good, now try and get some sleep! X**_

* * *

Alice barged into Betty's room at 6:30am the next morning a positive grin etched across her face as she claimed today was going to be good day. Betty groaned, shying under the covers as she rubbed her tired eyes. The night mares resurfaced every time she lapsed into sleep, culminating in a restless night.

"Mom, do I have to go? Jughead needs me right now!"

Alice threw a pointed look her way, grabbing a fresh pair of jeans and a soft pink sweater from her draw.

"Jughead is stable and under constant care. You're going to school Elizabeth."

And with that she was gone.

Betty had begrudgingly gotten on with her morning, meeting Archie out front of their houses an hour later.

"Hey, good to have you back." The red head expressed genuinely as they began their trek.

"I wish I could say it's good to be back but-"

"But you'd rather be with Jug. I get that," Archie offered, a hint of bitterness crept into his tone but it went unnoticed.

Betty nodded, keeping her eyes ahead of her as her nails dug into her palms within the pockets of her coat.

She was on edge all day itching to run away from English and algebra and escape to the hospital.

By lunch she'd had her limit of mediocre expressions of sympathy, whispers in hallways and small talk and retreated to the blue and gold.

Pulling up a new document on her laptop, Betty poised her fingers over the keys and desperately searched for inspiration. None came.

She couldn't shake the off kilter feeling of being in the room without Jughead there. It had started when he had gone to Southside High, her involvement in the paper seeming somehow wrong without him, the office violently empty. Yet now knowing where he was she felt a sharp sting of loneliness accompanied by panic drive through her body.

Just as she began to spiral into anxiety the door opened and Veronica walked in cautiously. The sounds of her steps bringing Betty back to herself.

"Hey, I brought you some coffee."

"Thanks V," Betty accepted graciously stifling a yawn.

Veronica appraised her with critical eyes, taking in her friends evidently fatigued and slightly off state.

"How are you doing? She asked after a moment, sitting on the edge of the desk and elegantly crossing her stocking clad legs.

"I'm fine. I just would rather be with him you know?"

"Of course you would B. You love him and days ago he was fighting for his life," Veronica empathised, deciding agreeance was the best approach here.

Betty nodded, finger skimming the edge of the coffee cup.

"How's he doing anyway?"

"Better," Betty insisted a half smile tweaking her features and lightening her face as she remembered his change of ward.

"I think Kevin mentioned something about his dad wanting to talk to Jughead soon, just FYI."

Betty's eyes widened. She knew this would come eventually but she didn't want Jughead to have go through the trauma again, god knows it was getting to her every time the Sheriff had asked her questions and even just by way of her own minds reminders. She also feared the eminent blame on the gang who had recently offered themselves up as Jughead's family and felt apprehensive toward his reaction to that line of questioning.

The rest of the school day had dragged on incessantly and Betty found herself watching the clock more than what was being written on the board. Finally after a pain stakingly slow passage of hours the hands of the clock finally rounded on 3pm and the bell sounded, invoking her liberty. The usually demur girl became a whirlwind of blonde hair and pink sweater as she made incredibly quick work of gathering her necessary books and bag from her locker and started on the journey to Riverdale Hospital.

The walk, although not excessive was still a reasonable distance from the school, but Betty welcomed the distraction of her aching feet and cold soaked limbs brought her. For a few blissful moments she was able to immerse herself in shallow and menial self-pity and complaining temporarily obstructing her constant worries and ache for the raven haired boy she was on her way to see.

Once she had finally arrived at the hospital Betty had to pause and stop her body from moving on autopilot toward Jughead's previous room in the ICU and instead head toward his new residence. Shaking her head she redirected her steps and headed toward the children's ward.

With each step she took closer to him Betty felt her anxiety dissipate a little more. The surroundings of crisp carpets and shining tiles, white walls and gurneys scatter throughout hallways still made her a little sick with the traumatic memory of why she was there to begin with, but the drawn out day without seeing his face was much worse.

Eventually she reached the section of the hospital he was residing in, and made brisk work of moving across the small communal area in which the nurses station stood and heading toward his door.

The bundled up girl let out a content sigh as she closed in on his room, a small smile twitching at her lips at the thought of spending her afternoon with him, being there for him.

"Excuse me, are you here to visit Forsythe Jones?" a polite voice stopped Betty in her tracks.

Her heart instantly plummeted as she turned toward the nurse, who had placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Betty's nerves stood on end as her stomach churned with nausea and her chest constricted painfully, anxiety flaring within her. Her mind was spinning with all the possibilities as to why the nurse would need to intercept her.

 _Oh god_.

Her vision tinted red with images of pooling blood. Her coat was scratchy and heavy against her too warm body now and she could feel her hands trembling as the horrid flat lining noises returned to drum in her ears, heart aching and her blood running cold. _No, he was fine.. He can't-_

Taking a deep breath to calm herself and calling upon the last essence of sanity she had, Betty searched the nurse's face alarmed.

"Jughead. I'm his girlfriend. He… Is he-"

"Oh no, he's fine! I'm sorry to make you panic!" the nurse's eyes widened in realisation and she spoke with a quick and apologetic tone.

"Thanks god," Betty breathed, closing her eyes and taking another stabilising breath to try and still her racing heart and appease her shot nerves.

"The Sheriff is actually talking to him right now though, so you may have to wait a little while before you see him."

Betty's shoulder's stiffened again and she nodded in understanding, though her eyes had taken on a hard tint. She bit her lips in frustration, hoping to have been with him to offer her support and anchoring when he was ultimately interrogated by the Sheriff. It wasn't that Kevin's dad didn't have good intentions and didn't feel for Jughead, but she knew he was just as susceptible to the prejudices almost the entirety of Riverdale held toward those from the Southside. He no doubt thought Jughead was gunned down due to being involved in some shady business. The thought made her heart seize momentarily as she remembered the leather jacket now hanging in his closet. As quick as the thought had come though, she pushed it away; she trusted Jughead.

"I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but I was there when… I was _with_ him when…" her words hitch and die as she's again blinded by the haunting memory. _Gun shots, pain, so much blood_. "When _it_ happened, so I don't think they'll mind." Betty finishes resolutely, finding her strength.

The nurse offers her a sympathetic look, eyes filled with a brand of pity that makes Betty's chest feel hollow and her hands curl into tight fists.

"Oh I'm so sorry, of course, go through."

"Thank you."

Swallowing the bad taste in her mouth at this entire situation, the entire day really, Betty continued on her path toward his room. She pushes the door open half way before peering around it. She takes in the sight before her- Jughead propped up in his hospital bed dark brows furrowed in what she thinks is both pain and frustration, mouth turned down in a slight frown and hair messy. Sheriff Keller sits in the arm chair beside his bed, notebook in hand.

"Am I interrupting?"

Jughead's eyes immediately found hers as the sound of her voice broke through the terse silence of the room, only interrupted by the scratching of pen on paper on the Sheriff's part. A warm smile pulled at her lips as she was enveloped by her boyfriend's presence, her heart feeling significantly more at ease, finally having him in her sights. Though, she still felt the gnawing of the pit in her stomach his frail form.

"No. C'mere," his gruff voice invited, and Betty tried to bite back her laugh at his obvious attempt to irritate the Sheriff.

"Betty," Sheriff Keller greeted, eyes momentarily glancing up at her from his notepad.

"Sheriff," she returned in an equally monotone voice, shrugging off her heavy winter coat and perching on the edge of the bed.

Her hand automatically found Jughead's, hoping to offer him some moral support as well as selfishly needing to feel his touch for her own sanity.

"So you didn't get a look at the guy at all?" Keller continued, moving past the disruption.

"Bit busy bleeding out," Jughead dead panned, and despite feeling a flash of panic flood through her at the vivid image again blaring in her mind, Betty found a distinct sense of comfort in the sarcastic comment even if it lacked his usual hard tone.

"Right," the Sheriff nodded tersely, "And no tattoo?"

Jughead's jaw clenched.

"Not one of a snake."

There was venom in his eyes and Betty felt her own blood boil at the repetitive suggestion. The Serpent's took care of their own. That's what FP had told them, that's what Jughead had told her and that's what the Serpents themselves had told Jughead on a night in his trailer that seemed like a lifetime ago even though it had not even been a week. And Betty on her part believed that, the show of unity for her boyfriend in his vulnerable state of having a father being shipped off the prison told her that, even if she was skeptical of what else they did.

"I already told you that Sheriff," She cut in curtly, her own features turning down.

"I know you did. But there are certain people in this town that seem to always be associated with certain incidents so-"

"Like Clifford Blossom?" Betty was harbouring on furious. She didn't understand how after everything that had happened over the last nine months could be so readily dismissed.

Riverdale was full of secrets, lies and hidden intent. And while it may have presented a glossier exterior than the Southside, that didn't make it safer. Just better at covering things up.

The Sheriff pursed his lips, eyeing her with a hard expression.

"Alright I didn't come here to cause trouble. I'm just doing my job. If you think of anything else important Jughead call me."

Jughead nodded absently as the Sheriff got up and began to make his way out the room. Betty's hand was clutching his a little tighter now in her angered state but his mind was dwelling elsewhere. The remnants of pain flashed through him as he dove into the memories of Saturday morning, trying desperately to wade past the fuzzy images of the gun barrel pointed at Betty and then himself and then blinding, searing pain. And then nothing. He remembered the echoes of desperate screams and Betty's frantic frame above him, her pretty face marred with tears. He remembered panic and fear and white hot adrenaline at the thought of the bullet passing through her and somehow managing to be thankful it had selected him instead.

But he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something important he was missing.

Jughead chewed down on his lip wading further into the depths of his memory, desperately seeking for the answer.

As he searched his eyes bore through a card hung above the window. It was a blue one with a picture of a puppy that Archie thought would be funny in its seeming juxtaposition of Jughead's hard exterior.

 _Archie…_

His eyes widened as Jughead clicked onto the missing piece.

"Wait!" he gasped out, his chest burning with the exertion the volume had created.

The Sheriff stilled at the door and turned back to face him with curiosity written across his face. He waited with raised brows as Jughead sputtered for second, Betty rubbing his back gently as the coughs subsided.

"It was Fred. The guy who shot me, he was asking for Fred Andrews."


End file.
